You fit exactly on the curve of my back, when I V E N G O and you become all the letters of my alphabet. My whole body becomes a sky that only you reach, with your hands. My toes tense, I know your warm death claims me its property.
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as if the pain could be shared, as if dividing the sorrow weigh a little less.
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Idolize your back... It is an act of righteousness for my soul, An act of poetry for my heart, An act of reward...
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Tell her you don't love me anymore, Tell him that you don't miss me anymore. tell her you don't think of me when you open your eyes, tell her not to look for my back in the morning when you find hers, tell him you don't see me in your coffee cup anymore, that you don't think of me anymore when you put on that shirt, tell him that you no longer imagine me taking off your panties while you pick them out, pretend to be surprised ,
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they don't come to destroy us, although sometimes it seems like that, even though they hurt more than we imagined. They have their own process, slow, uncomfortable, but necessary.
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Imagine trying to scare her when she's literally been toe to toe with everyone who was supposed to protect her. That's wild behavior.
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Who hasn't missed their inner child... That child who went disappearing from our soul, That boy who left silently in our heart.
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Because not only what the mirror reflects is enough, But it also tells a lot of what we hide, What we sometimes don't want to show, That which is internal, Which is much deeper, The one that has more weight on the person.
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She’s pretty… but did you notice? She’s pretty, but did you notice how she avoids eye contact sometimes, like she’s still learning how to be seen without feeling exposed? Did you notice how she brushes off compliments, laughs them away, or changes the subject because part of her still doesn’t believe them?
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He knew exactly what he was doing when he was lowering his voice tone while he was telling me how well his day was.
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